


Imagine Us in Heaven

by UselessLesbianLaughter



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Smut, Tahani is a lesbian, but not too much Angst, but only in chapter 9, elhani, soft, teleanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessLesbianLaughter/pseuds/UselessLesbianLaughter
Summary: There's a fine line between heaven and hell, and all that lives, walks there.This is purgatory, here life has death for neighbour. This is the café at the end of the world, this is madness, this is home. This is The Medium Place.And the welcoming party is today. Eleanor's fretting over her ballroom dancing skills, or lack thereof. Tahani offers to help, unknowingly tipping the first domino in a limitless lineup.Can you ever go back once you've gotten wasted, made things complicated?Can you ever go back once you've caught feelings you can’t hide, can’t fight?A story of falling in love when love, among most things, feels doomed for disaster. Of finding oneself. Of knowing others and being known. Of loving, caring, being seen, tears and laughter and sparks when skin meets skin.After all, what is to love but to rather spend eternity in hell with them over heaven without? Love will be cruel to who it entices.Basically follows S4 canon up to E8, think of it as a 'reading between the lines'/'what they didn't show you on-screen' story.
Relationships: Tahani Al-Jamil/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 30
Kudos: 113
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	1. slow dance with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doublejoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/gifts).

> This fic was written for FemSlashEx 2019. To stephanericher, the receiver of this fic: I truly hope you'll enjoy reading it. I tried to include everything you asked for and added a few touches of my own. I've worked very hard on it for the past month and I hope it delivers.
> 
> To anyone who's just stumbled onto this story: am feedback vampire, will starve without. Seriously, I live for comments, they make my day! Please consider leaving one.
> 
> To my general reader base, none of whom followed me for Teleanor: What's that? I can't just disappear off the face of the Earth again and reemerge with an 11k Teleanor fic? Yes, I bloody well can! Now please leave a comment because I'll get very sad otherwise, I appreciate you very much.
> 
> I'd like to thank @insert-coolusername-here and @rokewe on Tumblr for beta reading, you were a tremendous help!
> 
> TW (contains spoiler): Chapter 9 involves a not-too-graphic sex scene, if that is something you feel uncomfortable with, feel free to skip it.

Eleanor Shellstrop was about to lose her mind. She was seated in her new office, kneading the sleeves of her sweater, an old anxious habit she’d thought long gone, and indeed, about to lose her mind.

She’d taken well to pretending to be the architect, or at least that’s what everyone thought. She was, after all, a world-class liar. The role had brought some unexpected responsibilities, though. Many she’d expected, which was all that she'd seen Michael do and a bag of chips by the name of saving humanity. She’d signed up for that, even if it was far from a calculated decision. There was something she hadn’t expected, though, and it was, kindly said, rather stupid. The thing making her spiral was the crippling anxiety she felt over dancing, of all things, dancing. She was cradling the fate of humanity in her arms like a newborn, this fragile, beautiful thing she could drop and break any minute, and she was worried about dancing.

It was all the more ridiculous because Eleanor knew how to dance, so much so that she was dancefloor royalty at any club she happened upon back on Earth. She may not have been as good at ballroom but even then, she managed. Besides, she wasn’t even sure she’d have to dance. It'd been nothing more than an empty suggestion thrown in the air, casually as ever, now a broken record in her mind.

No matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, thinking about the damned welcoming party was still grinding her nerves to dust. Tahani's neighbourhood welcoming parties were fun when you could get drunk, hog shrimp, hit on the host and cause a scene. But Eleanor the Architect couldn't afford to act like Eleanor the Arizona Dirtbag. She had to set an example. She had to be _ perfect _.

Never before had she been this acutely aware of the impact on the universe all her most minute actions had. Never before has she been this terrified.

Were she to trip, her aura of divinity would fade and the neighbourhood's trust in her would be sure to falter resulting in god-knows-what. Standing on the side-lines, dwindling her thumbs, all alone, didn't seem like much better an option. Either way, she risked being perceived as inadequate, and any crack in the perfect façade they’d created for this neighbourhood could result in nothing less than eternal damnation.

It was at times like these, she missed her old life, her old self. Old Eleanor didn't care what people thought of her. She'd unload a cart containing tequila, Lonely Gal margarita mix for one and an unholy amount of chips with confidence. Old Eleanor wasn't responsible for all the world’s souls.

A gentle series of knocks sounded from the door, shaking Eleanor out of her anxious daze. She cleared her throat.

"Enter," she said in the most assertive voice she could muster.

The door opened, revealing a familiar sexy giraffe. Eleanor instantly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything. I just wanted your opinion on whether I should go with crimson or burgundy for the napkins?" Tahani chirped, demonstrating the two colours.

"Babe, you know I can't tell those apart," Eleanor replied. Maybe she'd have entertained the idea that the napkins were just an excuse to see her if she wasn't so stressed out.

"How do you do this?" she asked.

"Sorry, do what?" Tahani asked in turn.

"You always worry about your image and make it look so effortless. It's hasn't even been a week for me and I'm losing my forking shirt."

"I hardly think there's any reason to worry. You'll do beautifully. We've been through this hundreds of times before, right?"

"Right. Except I wasn't the architect then," Eleanor said and buried her face in her hands, groaning, "I'm not like you, I don't know how to be perfect all the time."

Seeing Eleanor without her usual confidence and swagger was odd for Tahani.

"I could literally send all of humanity to eternal damnation by tripping. That's too much pressure! And now Michael’s saying something about a dance at the welcoming party and I barely know how, I'm forked."

Tahani took a cautious step closer.

"Perhaps I could help you with the second thing. I had a tutor in dance for quite a while and William Pino himself called my waltz spectacular at Ellen’s 50th," she suggested.

Eleanor considered the offer. She doubted she could learn much in an afternoon but anything would be a welcome distraction, much better than sitting and waiting and driving herself mad with worry.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," she said.

Tahani immediately quirked up, a spark lighting in her eyes. In two quick steps, she was standing by Eleanor, urging her to stand up with her hand reached out.

"So, which style would you like to practise?" she asked.

_ Shit_. Eleanor thought. She didn't even know.

Noticing the puzzled expression on her friend's face and the panic flashing behind her eyes, Tahani smiled reassuringly.

"Perhaps we'll start with a waltz, then?" she suggested, voice soft as satin.

"Let's do that, yeah, let's go do that somewhere else that isn't here," Eleanor croaked in reply. The office was suffocating her all of a sudden.

“Of course. I do believe there’s more space in the waiting room, quite crammed in here,” Tahani agreed, already making her way to the door, followed by Eleanor whose legs were only slightly trembling.

In the waiting room, where they’d both awoken several hundred times over, Tahani stood, facing Eleanor.

“You know how the box step goes, right?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said, “I think. I mean, I’m pretty sure. Probably?”

“That’s alright. We can just go over it to make sure, then,” Tahani replied and smiled. Her smile was intoxicating. Like apple cider, it was sweet and felt like home while slowly getting you drunk. Tahani stepped forward, reaching out her arms.

“Partners stand face to face, palm to palm,” she took Eleanor’s right hand and interlaced their fingers as though she’d done it a million times before, “I’ll lead. When you’re following, your hand will be just below my shoulder,” Eleanor placed her left hand there and Tahani corrected it by an inch, “and my arm will hook behind your back,” she finished, placing her free arm so it rested on Eleanor’s left shoulder blade.

“As I take a step forward, you’ll take a step back. Just follow my lead.”

Eleanor nodded.

Tahani took a step forward, Eleanor took a step back.

“One,” Tahani stepped to the side, “two,” then to the back, “three,” then to the side again, “four.” Eleanor followed.

“Good,” Tahani exclaimed, “now a bit faster.”

They took the steps again, over and over again, Tahani still counting the numbers under her breath, Eleanor counting her own heartbeats. Tahani quirked a smile and began leaning to the right a bit, soon they were making perfect circles around the room.

“There’s no music,” Eleanor muttered.

“Sure there is,” Tahani replied, “right there,” gesturing towards Eleanor’s heart with her face. Said heart replied by sending a rush of blood to Eleanor’s cheeks.

“Now, let’s do an underarm turn,” Tahani said, dropping her right arm and letting go of Eleanor’s hand, raising her left arm, “now take one more step with me,” she instructed, “and then, take two steps away to my left, and then two back towards me. Keep your arm out, dear. And come back to me,” she finished, assuming the closed position again, “now once more, faster.” Eleanor’s heart must’ve been listening in because it took the advice and beat even faster. Any faster and Eleanor feared she might have to die for the, what was it now, third, fourth time? Eight hundred and fifth? 

Still, she took the steps with an elegance almost matching Tahani’s.

Standing this close, their height difference became much more apparent than usual. Eleanor’s head would’ve rested perfectly on Tahani’s chest. All she wanted to do at that moment was to follow that impulse. They danced another two circles before she did.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

They took the next few steps in silence.

“I know,” Tahani replied. “I am, too. But you are the single bravest, most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

“But I’m just an Arizona dirtbag,” Eleanor breathed a sad chuckle.

“No. No, you’re not. You’re just a girl from Arizona, doing her very best to save the world. And that makes you incredible. You’re brilliant.”

“But what if I can’t make these people better? What if they don’t improve like I did? Chidi taught me to be better. I’m not like him, I don’t know how to make people better,” Eleanor’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Chidi may have made you a better person but you, Eleanor, are the one that made me better. We’ve made it this far because we’ve all helped each other, but whatever improvements I have made, it’s been because you and I have become mates,” Tahani confessed, resting her chin on Eleanor’s head.

Eleanor sniffled and sighed, blinking fast to keep the tears from falling.

“Which step’s next?” she asked, voice raspy, suppressing the clump at the back of her throat, and lifted her head from Tahani’s chest, looking up now with glistening eyes like whirlpools, impossible to look away from.

Tahani taught her the progressive and balance steps as well, and added a few twirls for fun.

When they separated, Tahani asked her if she felt any better. Eleanor nodded. She asked if Eleanor wanted to learn another style.

“Perhaps another time,” Eleanor replied.

Daylight had turned to dusk. It wouldn’t be long before guests started arriving at the welcoming party. They parted ways to get ready.

There was no dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter, I hope you've enjoyed it enough to continue. Feel free to leave any feedback at all in any moment in time, I'm not desperate or anything it's just that I live off of them.
> 
> Feed the feedback vampire, I'm awfully cute and it'd be a shame if I starved to death.


	2. if I drink enough, I can taste you lipstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eleanor gets drunk and flirty.

Tahani bids the last guest, John, goodbye. As she shuts the door and turns around, she sees Eleanor, who's decided to stay a bit longer, relax in relief, much like a balloon deflating.

  
"Ugh, finally," she says, grabbing the nearest bottle of liquor, an already half-empty bottle of tequila, and popping off the cap, she holds it up in toast, “To making things go away! No hangovers in fake heaven, babey!"

  
Watching Eleanor chug straight from the bottle, Tahani truly hopes so.

  
"You were splendid," she reassures her, "I told you there was no need to fret."

  
Eleanor chuckles between sips.

  
"Yeah, except the fate of all of humanity. No biggie!"

  
Feeling the alcohol sliding down her throat, the warmth in her chest, the bite after each sip, calms her. With each sip, she feels a bit better, a bit less like the world is collapsing in on her. A bit more like Old Eleanor who didn’t care about consequences or what others thought of her.

  
When she's emptied the bottle, she smiles at an astonished Tahani.

  
"Oh, please. Don't tell me you never drank a whole bottle all by yourself," she says.

  
"Of tequila, no. I think I'd have died if I did."  
"Who cares, I die all the time," Eleanor replies, smirking. She grabs a slice of lime from the table next to her and says "come here. You taught me waltz. I'll teach you how to dance the Shellstrop way."

  
There’s a moment of hesitation but Tahani goes.

  
"Can you play some music?" Eleanor asks before biting down on the citrus, her face scrunching up at the sourness, and tossing it away.

  
"We could ask Janet," Tahani suggests.

  
"No, I like it when it's just us," Eleanor says, utmost casually, "how about that?" she asks, pointing at a record player on a table to her left.

  
"Why, of course. What should I play?"

  
"Something... 80s."

  
Tahani digs through the records to see if she has anything resembling that. Most are classical compositions and she has to look for a long time before she finds one titled "80s Top Hits." She presses play and drops the tonearm down to the record. Music fills the space around them, seeping through the floorboards and hugging the walls as she walks back to Eleanor who’s already eagerly swaying.

  
_Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_  
_Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

  
"Bit ironic," Eleanor murmurs, swaying closer to Tahani, "just copy me," she whispers, barely audible over the music.

  
Eleanor moves to the beat as though she was born to. Her fingers click to the left and to the right, her shoulders move towards Tahani and back, her hair shaking loose as she runs her fingers through it. The alcohol courses through her body faster as she moves, wondering how she isn't seeing double yet.

  
Tahani follows, getting more into the groove of the music with each step. Eleanor puts a hand on her shoulder and bounces her torso back and forth, her head falling back in a giggle. The movement is contagious. She creates a little wave, a ripple, if anything, the movement becoming more exaggerated with each beat, and it’s all ever-so-silly.

  
Tahani's breath gets stuck in her throat but still, she moves with her. What's a little asphyxiation in the afterlife?

  
Eleanor rolls her hips, Tahani's heart flips over in her chest.

  
Did time slow down or is it just the music? The air between them is long gone, just sparks now. The space between them is just as non-existent, still, with each beat, they seem to get closer and closer. Tahani’s certain she could get drunk off of Eleanor’s breath alone. Maybe, just maybe, if she held her breath long enough she could stop time, live in this intoxicating moment forever in the dot over the i in Jeremy Bearimy.

  
A new song beginning signifies an abrupt change. This one’s less party anthem, more driving in a rainy night and sobbing anthem.

  
_It must have been love, but it's over now_  
_From the moment we touched, 'til the time had run out_

  
First, Eleanor slows down the dancing, the grinding. Her eyes fall shut. She slings her arms around Tahani’s neck and they sway side-to-side. Tahani’s certain the floor is just about to disappear from underneath her feet. Second, she stands on the very tips of her toes and leans over Tahani’s shoulder, close enough to whisper, with a slight slur, into her ear so her breath’s flush on her cheek,

“Wanna get out of here?”

  
That shakes Tahani awake.

  
“Maybe it’s time you get some rest. Let’s get you to bed. The guest bedrooms are on the second-"

  
“Maybe you should get me to bed,” Eleanor cuts her off, “do ya get it? Do ya get it? I mean,” she makes two peace signs but before she could do whatever she was planning to, Tahani stops her with a hurried,

  
“Yes, I assure you I get it. I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

  
Eleanor pouts, her hands dropping down.

Then, her face lights up again.

  
“Would’ya wear a Stone Cold Steve Austin mask? Would you,” she slurs, “would you consider it? If I say pretty please?”

  
“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Tahani decides, picking the blonde up in an effortless bridal carry with surprisingly strong arms.

  
“Aww yeah! Whoa, you're strong," Eleanor exclaims under her breath and giggles, running her fingers through Tahani's hair, "you're so forking perfect," she says under her breath.

  
A pair of dry lips land on Tahani’s cheek, perhaps drunkenly missing her lips, all the better, less to talk about once morning's sobered even the maddest of ventures.

  
Tahani cranes her neck backward, trying to fixate on ascending the stairs instead of the gentle pecks being planted on her chin.  
Eleanor giggles and mumbles gibberish.

From what Tahani makes out, she mentions Stone Cold Steve Austin at least two more times, followed by a lot of innuendos, and something about a giraffe, and maybe a countertop?

  
She opens the door to a guest bedroom with her foot, flips a light switch with her elbow, and drops Eleanor on the bed, earning a tiny squeal from the blonde.

  
"Hey," Eleanor yell-whispers, "hey. Hey. Hey!"

"What?" Tahani asks, voice growing tired.

  
"C'mere." The invitation’s flirty but also needy, much like a petulant toddler. Most of all, it’s drunk.

  
"Now is really not the best time to be making such conversation. Best you sleep this off and see if you still want to discuss it in the morning," Tahani says, guessing Eleanor wouldn't remember anything past opening a bottle the next morning.

  
"C'mon, hot stuff," Eleanor pouts.

  
Tahani doesn't reply this time. She pulls Eleanor's shoes off, earning a little "aw yeah" and a disappointed sigh when she puts a blanket over her, fully clothed, and turns to leave, turning off the lights. She figures she'll fetch a bucket or bowl she wouldn't mind discarding of and a glass of water, just in case, when she hears a sniffle coming from behind her.

  
She turns around.

  
"Eleanor, are you alright?"

  
"'m fine," Eleanor replies between what have turned into full-on sobs, "I'm scared. T’s too dark. Don't,” she hiccups,” don’t leave me alone."

  
Tahani sighs and makes her way to the bedside. She sits down and brushes her hand through blonde curls.

  
"You're not alone."

  
"I'm going to fork it up," Eleanor sobs, "I'm goin-to fork ever-thing up." Her words grow more slurred with each sentence.

  
Tahani keeps petting her hair, gently shushing her.

  
"I'm... I'm just no-a good per-shon. Person."

  
"Shh...," Tahani comforts, and takes Eleanor's hand.

  
"I'm no' good enough," Eleanor cries, squeezing Tahani's hand as a fallen climber clutches onto the last piece of rope keeping them from the ground.

  
"Of course you are," Tahani assures her.

  
Eleanor’s words come out between quick sniffles, fracturing her speech like a plate cracking as it hits the ground,

  
"I wasn' good 'nough for my mom. Or dad. I can't be good 'nough for," she pauses, searching for words, "everyone."

  
Tahani takes a deep breath.

  
"You're good enough for me," she says, "come here."

  
She cradles Eleanor's head in her lap, petting her hair, still. Eleanor sobs into the hem of her dress.

  
"Stupid Eleanor," she mutters, "stupid, drunk, no-good," she would've kept listing for a long time had Tahani not stopped her.

  
"You're magnificent," she whispers, blinking away a stray tear.

  
They sit like that for a long time, weathering the storm without a word, until Eleanor's sobs quiet down and her breathing becomes regular again. With her eyes burning, she sits up and mumbles,

  
"Stay with me? Just tonight."

  
And Tahani says, "Okay."

  
She kicks off her peach-toned heels and lies down next to Eleanor. She wraps her arms around her and holds her as a life vest. Every now and again, a quiet sob pierces the silence until exhaustion tugs Eleanor’s eyes shut.


	3. i will go if you ask me to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eleanor wakes up alone.

Morning comes with the first sunrays breaking in through the blinds and dancing on her eyes until she begrudgingly opens them. Staring at the ornately decorated plaster ceiling, it’s easy to forget who she is, as though floating between dimensions in a space where nothing is entirely real and nothing has an intrinsic meaning. Such foolish flights of fancy, of course, are always short-lived. Soon enough, memories of the past night flood her mind and the sensations of her physical condition creep up to her. No hangovers in fake heaven, no, but messy hair and dry lips, nonetheless. And cold beds, she finds, beds much colder than she remembers having left them. An intrusive absence pulls her into a flash of fear momentarily broken by a glass of water she spots on the bedside table.

She grabs it and takes many eager sips, feeling better in an instant. Putting the emptied glass back, she looks out through the window. The sun has yet to finish rising, it must be early. That much, at least, is good. Even when nothing else is. As the sleep-induced fog clears from her mind, more and more memories return like pesky mosquitoes coming back in early spring.

The memories aren’t in perfect chronological order but it soon becomes evident to her what had transpired the night before. She buries her face in her palms in embarrassment, running her fingers through her hair and groaning. How could she even face Tahani after that?

Of course, there is another, much worse prospect, concerning the lack of Tahani where she’d last seen her. She’s all alone and getting colder by the second despite the generous layers of blankets. What if Tahani didn’t want anything to do with her after last night? Eleanor couldn’t blame her, still, the thought stung.

What time had she left? Would she ever come back? How the hell was Eleanor supposed to save all of humanity if, after all these years, she was still such a train wreck?

She reaches for sleeves to knead but doesn’t find any.

Before she can finish driving herself insane all over again, the door creaks open, first revealing two unmistakably elegant hands holding a serving tray with two tiny cups balanced on it, decorated with painted gold leaves. Tahani steps in with a smile that could only be described as quiet. She places the tray on the bedside table, revealing that both are filled with strong, black coffee. There are two cubes of sugar balanced on one of the saucers.

At first, Eleanor doesn’t dare to say anything. Tahani hands her the coffee cup on the saucer with sugar cubes on it. Eleanor plucks the sugar and drops it into the coffee, watching it dissolve.

“Look, I’m sorry if I,” she begins. Tahani interrupts.

“We don’t have to talk about that,” she says.

Another beat of silence follows.

“Coffee’s good,” Eleanor notes.

“Thank you, it’s Dynasty Gran Café Cru Classé™ Premier Grand Cru.”

Eleanor tilts her head to the side, her brow furrowing.

“I have no idea what you just said, also, did you just say a trademark out loud?”

Tahani breathes a chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Eleanor snorts.

“I can’t believe you managed to namedrop coffee,” she laughs.

Tahani looks at the floor and starts laughing as well. It’s warm and hearty and feels like home. And then it dies down, as laughter does. And the room is rigid again. You could hear the floorboards creaking down the hall and the clink of Eleanor’s cup touching the saucer sounds more like an explosion.

After an unbearable amount of silence, Eleanor speaks up.

“Well, I’d better go,” she pauses in thought, “do you happen to know where my, uh,”

“Oh, your shoes are in the doorway.”

“Thanks.”

Eleanor opens her mouth to say something else, then closes it again. She can’t help but notice another item of clothing she definitely had on the night before is missing as well but the tension in the room closes off her throat and she can’t figure out how to ask without hiding from the rain under a drip edge.

A sudden uncomfortable clarity illuminates Tahani’s eyes.

“Oh, you mean your, you, uh, got up in the middle of the night to take it off, must still be somewhere across the room. Good arm,” she jokes. The humour falls flat.

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” Eleanor nods, searching the room with her eyes, landing on a piece of black fabric hanging off the tall closet in the corner of the room. She finishes her coffee and manages to get out of bed with no clue how she’ll reach high enough to get it.

“Well, I better get dressed then,” she shrugs, a cue for Tahani to leave she promptly understands. When the door shuts behind her, Eleanor searches the room for anything stable enough to climb on top of. She settles for the bedside table that proves light enough to carry over to the closet. As she fetches the bra, the table begins to shake under her feet.

She lands on the floor with a thud, thanking her lucky stars that she missed any sharp edges that may have broken her fall. When she’s caught her breath, she gets up and brushes it off, not as though she had any dignity left to lose after last night.

She doesn’t see Tahani on her way out. Probably for the best.


	4. and days go past; oh so fast; but memories they last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tahani reflects on her past, and time's arrow neither stands still nor reverses, it merely marches forward.

Life goes on. Life always goes on, the passage of time an inevitable, inescapable stream. Life goes on when it ends and when you don’t want it to, when you don’t know how or if a moment will pass, it does. You can hide from everyone you know, everything you love and hate, even your own shadow but you can’t hide from time, at least not when you’re alive.

Afterlife moves in a Jeremy Bearimy, the logistics of which might hurt to think about but the reality of which is not much different. Time may not be linear anymore but it’s still endlessly flowing, and in the Medium Place, afterlife goes on, even when you’ve forked up.

It keeps going when Tahani starts doubting Eleanor’s leadership when Janet tells her their odds of success have dropped by 2.9% in three short days and she can’t help but think back to the drunken mental breakdown she’d witnessed, maybe Eleanor wasn’t meant to lead after all.

It keeps going when she says it out loud for the first time and the door opens behind her. Her heart rate accelerates a terrifying amount and she curses herself for ever opening her mouth but time keeps going.

And things go back to normal relatively fast, as they’re bound to, as they have to when you’re responsible for the eternal fate of humanity.

The first team meetings are tense. Tahani can’t be sure if Eleanor is avoiding eye contact or if she herself is. They stand on the opposite ends of the room as much as possible and it feels as though their ideas are only capable of contradicting each other.

It’s uncanny how often Eleanor will begin to say something just at the same time as Tahani’s about to say the exact opposite. The cacophony lasts a while, they work around it because they have to. At a snail’s pace, things begin feeling the way they used to, not the way they were a month ago but not the way they were in the first reboot, either. They learn to stand next to each other again, and not talk over each other, and sometimes even share the same ideas.

Michael gives them their memories back right before he and Jason set off for the Bad Place. To say it’s overwhelming would be the understatement of the century. Tahani can’t help but keep thinking about attempt #218. She never mentions it. Another thing that won’t leave her alone is the ever-presence of her usefulness. It seems, in every timeline, all she does is throw parties. While everyone else, save for Jason, is out saving the world, she’s arranging cutlery. In the grand scheme of things, her life begins to feel more and more meaningless.

So she tries to be useful, tries her very best. But whatever she tries, it always ends up making things worse somehow, and there’s Eleanor to save the day, there’s Eleanor, being all perfect and beautiful and amazing, and Tahani doesn’t know whether to admire or resent her for it.

And then, she knows. When Eleanor tells her she’ll support her as she learns to weld (or whatever,) the warmth she feels inside tells her there’s not a morsel of resentment left in her body for Eleanor, even if she’d like there to be. It’s pure admiration and perhaps something else she dares not to think about.

When the chaos dies down and the most recent disaster has been avoided, there’s a brief moment in time when she gets to think. And she’d very much like to not think about the thing she dares not to think about, but she can’t seem to stop, either. Even entertaining the idea would be ridiculous, of course. She doesn’t see Eleanor in that way, she doesn’t see any women in that way. Right? And if, on the slightest chance, it was true that she did, she couldn’t act on them, not under these circumstances. It wouldn’t be fair to Eleanor, or all of humanity, for that matter. Why complicate things further?

And that’s completely beside the point because she doesn’t feel that way about Eleanor, in fact, she doesn’t feel that way about women at all. Even entertaining such an outlandish idea is a waste of time, and rather idiotic on her part. It’s not as though such feelings would be returned, anyway. Neither drunken outbursts, jokes or a single past reboot where things may or may not have happened count as proof of anything.

Still, that was her in #218. It bothered her how authentic that version of herself felt, and how far from who she is now that person was. She’s made great improvements since then, of course, but that feeling of authenticity is far from how she feels today: like a hot, rich _ fraud _ .

Indeed, she’d like very much not to think about it ever again but she does, and she can’t seem to stop. That’s how she finds herself pacing back and forth in her mansion, heels clicking on every turn. The pacing brings her no solace but she can’t seem to find a way to stop, either.

Something is troubling her, and as she has for the past three hundred or so years, she wants to talk to Eleanor about it. But, of course, she can’t do that. At this point, talking to anyone would do, but there’s no one to talk to, not without putting the integrity of the experiment in danger.

Just as she’s about to leave for a walk to clear her head, she hears a loud ‘bing’ and she’s no longer alone in the mansion.

“Janet! What brings you here?”

“Michael’s calling a meeting to discuss our strategy going forward,” Janet replies.

“I see,” Tahani says, voice distant, as though still coming back from the depths of her mind.

Janet nods and looks about to leave when Tahani stops her.

“Janet, wait!” her brow furrows as she considers whether she should go through with saying what she wants to say, “say, if you were to develop an affinity to a friend, a… special affinity. Purely hypothetically, what would you think wise to do in such a situation?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, say you have this person in your life you’re rather good friends with and some things may or may not have happened to imply they might like to be… more than that. Jokingly, probably. And you find it rather difficult to stop thinking about it and you wish you could but you can’t. And you can’t tell anyone about it, and it makes it difficult to concentrate. Maybe it’s ruining your life a little bit because you’re spending every waking moment in utter confusion? Does that help?”

“Not particularly.”

“Right, fine. Say you might, and I stress just might, have a slight crush on a friend and absolutely no one can know about it, and you don’t know what to do, what would you do?” Tahani asks one last time, exasperated.

“I don’t know a lot about human relationships. While I’m literally a vessel containing all the knowledge in the universe, I don’t have a lot of experience in that field. Human relationships are complicated and illogical, but also somehow essential. According to the collective databases on dating and relationships, you should act on it and also ignore it. They get contradictory. For every piece of advice, there’s another that says the exact opposite.”

“So you’re saying there’s no right answer?” Tahani asked, anxiety raising her voice by an octave.

“I’m not saying that but I’m also not saying that,” Janet replies.

“Well, that’s… unhelpful,” Tahani says, gutted.

“I’m afraid the best approach is just to follow your gut.”

“Maybe if I just ignore it, it’ll go away on its own. It has to, eventually,” Tahani says. She remembers the first time she thought that. She was 7, maybe 8 years old, and there was a girl in her ballet class, with cloudy black hair she always wore in a tight bun to class. When she took it out, it seemed to swallow her face whole so that only a bright dimpled smile and sparkling eyes peeked out.

Sometimes they snuck out after class to get ice cream at the gelateria down the street. It was a hassle to get there without Tahani’s chauffeur noticing but they were sneaky. Once, she told Tahani she would’ve liked to play football instead but her parents wouldn’t let her. Tahani spent the next week reading everything she could find in her extensive home library on football, and for her birthday, months later, Tahani at first gave her a pink lip gloss, and after the party had died down and most kids had gone home, and the parents, of course, weren’t looking, a shiny, official World Cup football.

And when she smiled, Tahani got butterflies, an utmost confusing feeling. She wanted to spend all her time with her, and got giddy at the prospect of seeing her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her even when she wasn’t around, and she just didn’t know why. Really good friendship, she supposed. Maybe, if she just ignored it, it’d go away on its own.

And it did, more or less. One day, Tahani’s parents announced to her they’d be moving, and she best say goodbye to all her friends, and so she did. And for months, she missed her, but as life does, it went on. Time went on and she stopped thinking about her, and never did quite figure out what she found so magnetic about that girl. Maybe she’s finally figured it out.


	5. The Price of Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tahani says it out loud for the first time.

Yet another crumpled piece of paper flies towards the rubbish bin, missing it by an inch. With a frustrated sigh, Tahani’s head collapses on the desk. She’s been at it for hours now, dismissing letter after letter after speech after bad poem. None had come even close to what she wanted to say, each turning out either comically dramatic or plain embarrassing.

It’s prime time to reconsider her strategy but what else is she to do? Just talk to Eleanor, just like that? And put everything at risk? Absolutely not.

She’s tried to keep quiet for the longest time, two months now, tried to solve it the British way, by grinning and bearing it and letting it eat her up inside over the course of a few decades, but she must be out of practice with bottling her feelings because the cork’s about to blow and the ripple effects could be devastating.

Afraid she can’t keep it up much longer, as her feelings don’t seem to be going anywhere by themselves, rather growing in intensity by the day, she has to think of a solution soon, or the butterflies in her stomach will keep multiplying and fill her throat until she suffocates.

At this point, she’s compromising the experiment. At first, she thought telling Eleanor would compromise the experiment, and it would, but somehow not telling her has become worse. She’s been walking around with her head in the clouds, messing up salad and dessert knives.

She can’t trust herself anymore, always feeling like she’s saying too much. It doesn’t seem fair to tell Eleanor but it doesn’t seem fair not to tell her, either. Where’s Chidi when you need him? Moral dilemmas are his jam, not Tahani’s. But, even if she wouldn’t be compromising the integrity of the experiment by asking him, no matter how vaguely, wouldn’t it be unfair to him? It certainly feels like playing dirty and Tahani discards the thought as yet another useless one.

Running her fingers through her hair, she groans. It’s no use. There are no good options left.

Of course, she’s near-certain Eleanor won’t return her feelings. The prospect of rejection is never a pleasant one. Still, she fears if she doesn’t shoot her shot she might be left to regret it for all of eternity. Regret in heaven, doesn’t that sound god-awful? Granted, she doesn’t doom the experiment somehow, granted, no one else does, either, which seems a slim chance.

It’s all far too much. Why, oh why, had Michael given her her memories back, why must she remember attempt #218, why does everything have to be so bloody complicated all the time? Sometimes, she’d like to hate Eleanor for making things so complicated, with her drunken flirting and compliments and baby blue eyes. Then, Eleanor will smile and call her babe and she’ll melt.

Perhaps the worst part is that she has no one to go to for advice. It’s not like there’s a support group for women just figuring out their sexuality in fake heaven and falling for their best friend while also being responsible for the fate of humanity.

She wonders how much Eleanor remembers about that night. She must remember how she decided to accompany Tahani when she went back to the party after the Derek incident but anything after that is questionable at best. She wonders if Eleanor thinks about attempt #218 sometimes. But wondering is useless, she’s been doing far too much of it for two whole months.

Drawing a sheet of paper towards herself, she clicks the pen she’s been clutching.

“Dear Eleanor,” she begins, and immediately scribbles it out. Frustrated, she puts pen to paper again. On an impulse, she writes, “To whom it may concern: I think I’m gay. Signed, Tahani Al Jamil.”

It’s not what she set out to write, not even close. But it is the first thing she doesn’t cross out and crumple up.

That’s a start.

She gets up from the desk and takes a deep breath, deciding to call it a night. She kicks off her heels and heads to the vanity to take off her makeup. It’s not as though she still needs to take care of her skin but it was routine for so long, she now takes comfort in going through the motions.

Looking at herself in the mirror, dragging a cotton pad across her cheek, she takes another deep breath and says, “I’m gay.”

Having removed her makeup, she heads for the bathroom. It’s spacious, rich in ornate details with marble flooring and greenery all around. In the daytime, it’s bright and open thanks to the skylights, and as night falls, it grows cozier. Past the sink is a Roman shower stall, and next to it a large white bathtub.

She dims the lights and runs herself a steaming hot bath. As the water’s running, she fetches the copy of  _ The Price of Salt _ she’d asked Janet for a few days ago. When the bath has filled up, she drops a pink bath bomb into the water and, once it’s dissolved, scatters a few rose petals about it and dips her finger in to check the temperature which is perfect, as always.

She has a bit of trouble with unzipping her dress as her arms struggle to reach the zipper all the way down and she thinks how nice it might be to have someone to help with such tasks. Though, on that note, wouldn’t it be nice if women’s clothes could target functionality enough to make them possible to put on and take off by oneself. Pondering those thoughts, she steps into the bathtub, careful not to have any water splash on her book.

She opens it on page one, glad to finally have a moment of free time, and the guts, to start reading. It draws her in and she doesn’t even notice the passage of time until she gets to page 36 where Therese sees Carol across the department store and their eyes meet. Tahani looks up from the book.

“I’m gay.”


	6. shine your teeth 'til meaningless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tahani comes out, part 1

Tahani wakes up early, with the sunrise, slips into a silky dressing gown and makes her way to the kitchen. She makes halwa puri from scratch for breakfast, paired with a hot cup of black tea complete with a generous splash of milk. Ever since her minor meltdown over feeling useless, she’s been taking the time to teach herself everyday practical skills she never had a need for back on Earth, like cooking. She doesn’t need them now, either, but enjoys the learning process and working with her hands has been growing on her. It helps her stay grounded in the madness of it all.

She sets down her plate and mug and sits down in the breakfast nook which is lush with natural light thanks to a plethora of windows, ready to go over her schedule for the day.

At noon, she’s promised to have lunch with Simone. The two of them have become rather close friends over the past months. Not long after, just about enough time for an outfit change, she’s to take a stroll around the neighbourhood with John, a daily habit they’ve developed that’s grown more and more pleasant as time’s gone on. And, in the evening, a Soul Squat meeting at Mindy St. Claire’s house. That should be all.

Her hand stops mid-air, holding a piece of puri, as she pauses in thought.

“I’m gay,” she says. It rolls off her tongue easier each time.

After doing the dishes, she heads back upstairs to get dressed. She picks a flowy black dress patterned with violets and smooths it over before leaving the house.

At lunch, Simone tells her about a study she read about whisker electromyograms signifying awake and anesthetized states in mice and Tahani listens, though she doesn’t understand much of the neuroscientific jargon, and nods, and, without looking up from her plate, with the same intonation as if saying she’s picking up knitting, she says,

“I’m gay,” and takes another bite of her salad.

“Oh,” Simone replies, “that is news.”

A silence falls between them.

“What about that story where you snog Ryan Gosling at the Met Gala?” Simone asks.

Tahani considers the question for a second. When she answers, she’s certain. Certain about a lot more than the answer to that particular question. All of a sudden, her entire life seems to make a whole lot more sense.

“I wasn’t particularly fond of it at the time, but I’ve loved telling people about it. To be honest, I think it was more of a status symbol than anything, much like running a marathon,” she says.

Simone nods, as if getting used to the thought. She takes a moment to figure out what to say.

“Good for you,” she replies, deciding that’s good enough, and continues her story about mice whiskers.

That was easy enough.

Tahani is unsure whether or not to tell John. She doesn’t, at least not yet, not today, and enjoys the walk nonetheless.

She gets to Mindy St. Claire’s before the others, and passes Mindy on her way in. Without a greeting, she goes,

“I’m gay.”

“Duh,” Mindy replies and leaves.

Tahani’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she fails to hold back a snort.

There’s not much to discuss at the meeting as, it seems, for the first time in a long while everything is going as it’s supposed to. Eleanor tells her she’s doing a wonderful job with John, and to keep it up. A red hue creeps onto her cheeks and she doesn’t care to hide it. The warmth she feels inside is indescribable, and though she fears the feeling’s fleeting, she holds onto it that much stronger for it, allowing herself to get lost in it for once.

She shares a part of her path home with Jason, and as they’re walking together, she tells him.

“I’m a lesbian.”

His brow furrows and he stops in his tracks.

“I thought you were British.”

Tahani bursts out laughing. Jason doesn’t quite get what’s so funny but joins in anyway. He likes being part of things. When she finally catches her breath, she asks him,

“Jason, do you not know what a lesbian is?”

He opens his mouth as if to say yes, he does, but closes it again, instead settling for,

“I think we had lesbians in Jacksonville.”

Tahani can’t stop laughing for long enough to explain. He’ll just have to ask Janet.


	7. (maybe) we're strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tahani comes out, part 2

She frets the most about telling Michael. It’s not that she’s afraid of his reaction.

Everyone she’s told has been supportive, if a bit awkward, and more so surprised. No one’s forced her to make a big thing of it and she’s glad they haven’t. The conversations have gone, more or less, ‘nice weather today, by the way, I’m gay’ and that was that. She didn’t see the point in waiting to tell anyone. She’d had centuries to figure this out and now that she had, she wasn’t keen on wasting any more time.

She’s told Simone, Jason, Janet, Chidi, and John, in that order. It took her two weeks to decide John had grown enough as a person to keep a friend’s secret, which proved correct. It probably even gave him a few points. Tahani still hasn’t figured out where he got the glitter to throw when she told him. It’s been a week and she’s still finding glitter in odd places.

She’s yet to tell Eleanor and Michael.

It’s really not that she’s afraid of Michael’s reaction. But he’s the closest to a positive father figure she’s ever had. She’s not ready to lose that, even though she knows the fear is irrational.

She’s pacing back and forth, quiet as a mouse to avoid bringing any attention to herself, outside of the architect’s office, trying to get her thoughts in order.

This experiment isn’t going to last forever, no matter the outcome, it has to come to an end eventually. Last they checked, no one’s made it to The Good Place in 521 years, most certainly not her parents. She thinks about them more often now that she doesn’t have to run for her life every other second. The only knowledge she has of how people are treated in The Bad Place comes from the few demons she’s encountered, primarily Michael. Her parents weren’t good people, she acknowledges that much, but they weren’t partial decapitations or two-mouthed bears bad. If the experiment is a success, they’ll be granted a chance to improve, at least she hopes so. Of course, she can’t be certain that they will improve, even if they get the chance.

She knows Eleanor’s mother improved back on Earth for her new family. She remembers how hurt Eleanor was knowing that her mother was always capable of improvement, that she just wasn’t worth improving for. Tahani imagines it would sting to find out the same about herself and her parents but she has never been good enough for her parents. For what it’s worth, that means she’s used to it.

There’s a lot of  _ if _ s and  _ but _ s dominating her thoughts because everything has been complicated for what feels like an eternity. What she does know, though, is that had she told her parents back on Earth, the fallout would’ve been disastrous. She wonders if she’ll get a chance to tell them in the afterlife, and how they might react if she does. The thought makes her shudder. A lifetime of parental rejection hasn’t prepared her for that kind of rejection from the closest thing to a healthy father figure she’s ever had, even if the chances of such rejection are slim to none.

Fear, no matter how irrational, has a tendency to control our actions, even if we know it’s irrational. It takes us to the darkest places in our minds whether we like it or not, and crawling out is not only tiresome but also complicated, like trying to find a latter to an exit in a vast, dark basement full of bear traps to trip on and spider webs to get tangled up in.

It feels as though she has everything on her mind, entire galaxies pulsing about in her frontal lobe, threatening to break out, thousands of solar systems orbiting each one of her thoughts. She stands like that, feeling like her skull’s about to crack open and spill out stars, in front of the office door.

After several deep breaths, she knocks.

Michael opens the door, surprised to see her.

“Tahani, what brings you here?”

“I had a spare moment. Can we talk?” Tahani asks.

“Of course,” Michael replies, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk, “what’s going on? Are you having trouble connecting with John?”

“No, it’s not that. We’ve been getting on very well, actually. I’ve even found unexpected solidarity with him,” Tahani bites her cheek and fidgets with the golden bracelet on her wrist, slightly too big for it, “It’s nothing with the neighbourhood, everything’s going smoothly, better than ever, in fact.”

“What is it, then?” Michael asks, confused.

“I’d like you to know something about me. For the sake of honesty, and because I really trust you. It’s really not a big deal and I don’t want it to change anything. I’d just like you to know,” she pauses to take a deep breath. It feels like someone has a vacuum to her throat and is sucking all the air out of her lungs. Her palms are sweating.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Michael assures her.

“I know. It’s just that,” she slips her bracelet off and slides it onto her other wrist, “it’s complicated. I’m afraid I don’t know how,” she pauses again and chews on her bottom lip, “Well, I suppose the most effective way to do it is to do it. So, here goes,” she takes a deep breath and sighs, “I am,” she begins, reconsiders, continues, “I like women. I’m a lesbian.”

At first, surprise paints his face but then he smiles. It's comforting, fatherly, in its own way. As fatherly as a reformed demon can be.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d figure that out,” Michael replies.

“You mean to tell me, you knew?” Tahani asks.

“Well, not exactly. When I first started the experiment, there were speculations, it was part of why we paired you off with Jason in the majority of the attempts. I’ve been watching you four for hundreds of years and the connections you make have always been different. In the end, you always came together to support each other and improve but the paths differed. Do you remember attempt number #218?”

“Of course I do. Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” Tahani confesses.

“I thought pairing you with Eleanor would maximize your suffering, you were polar opposites. From a distance, Eleanor always hated you at first because you symbolized everyone she hated for being better than her. So, I thought if I put you closer together, she’d only hate you more. But instead, the two of you ended up connecting. You were happy, to my great dismay, too happy,” Michael admits.

“And then you knew?”

“No, but I guessed. You grew close to Jason in many other reboots, and Chidi in a few, but you were never the way you were in #218.”

Tahani doesn’t dare ask what he meant by that.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, right?” she asks instead.

“Of course not.”

Tahani smiles. The scariest part is still ahead but it still feels as though a giant weight has been lifted from her shoulders.


	8. knockin' on heaven's door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahani comes out, part 3, and other interesting developments.

Today’s the day. Today she’ll tell her.

Finished smoothing out her dress that was perfectly smooth in the first place, Tahani’s primping her hair, looking into a Victorian-style compact mirror, running her index finger over the decorative pattern on its back. She’s standing next to the beach towel with patterns of navy blue and gold she’s laid out, her dress is a pleasantly contrasting wine red, with a low V-neck and thin straps, and a flowy maxi skirt to complete the look, of course.

She’s asked Eleanor to meet her there, at the beach, when the sun is setting. She asked her in the morning to give her time to think it over, though she doesn’t know if Eleanor has any clue what she’d like to talk about.

The beach is perfect. She thought long and hard about it before deciding in favour of it. It was just private enough, they could talk in peace and quiet with no one to bother them, but it wasn’t too far from home, close enough that there was a way out and no one had to feel trapped were things not to go as intended.

At first, Tahani had thought about asking Eleanor over to her mansion but soon realized she was in a position of power there. She wants them on equal footing, and as comfortable as possible.

Of course, it’s a boon that the beach is gorgeous this time of day, the setting sun painting the sky a canvas of the most beautiful reds and oranges and purples, and the calming sounds of the ocean soothing her anxiety. She tastes the salty ocean wind, the sound of waves crashing on shore washing over her like a gentle hug from Mother Nature herself. Even the shrieking seagulls sound sweet as nightingales.

Spotting a familiar figure in the distance, she snaps her mirror shut and pockets it. A gentle wave gets a smile in exchange.

Tahani waits for Eleanor to get to her before she speaks. She gestures to the blanket for them to sit down and they do.

“What’s up?” Eleanor asks.

Tahani’s cheeks flush crimson.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she admits, “two things, actually.”

“What is it, babe?” Eleanor flashes a sweet smile. Tahani’s heart skips a beat.

“It’s something I’ve realized about myself that I would like to share with you because you, Eleanor, are a true friend to me, and I want no secrets between us. It’s taken me a while to figure out how to tell you this,” she pauses, “well, out with it, I suppose. I’m gay.”

A beat of silence follows.

At first, surprise paints Eleanor’s face, her eyes widening and her lips parting without saying a thing. She processes it, and once she has, she speaks up.

“Is that all? You know I’ll support you no matter what, right? Welcome to the family,” Eleanor says.

Tahani smiles, the sentiment is saccharine.

“Thank you, Eleanor. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Of course, hot stuff. Being straight is boring, anyway,” Eleanor jokes. Tahani laughs, though it doesn’t sound as happy as she would’ve hoped it to.

“There is another thing, though,” she begins.

“Oh?”

“And I want you to know this doesn’t have to change anything between us. I just think you deserve to know. Yes, well, and I think I need to tell you, I want you to know. This is probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever had to say but I fear I’ll go mad when I don’t,” Tahani says, stalling.

She sighs and turns to Eleanor, glistening brown eyes finding baby blues. At first, she hesitates but then reaches out to take Eleanor’s hand between her own.

Eleanor’s mouth parts ever so slightly and her lashes shoot up with her widening eyes when she realizes what might be happening, or could just be wishful thinking on her part, which wouldn’t make the touch any less electric or her heart beat any slower.

“Eleanor, I,” Tahani’s voice breaks, “why’s it so hard to say this? The last thing I want is to hurt you and I fear if I say this, I will. Wouldn’t that be terribly unfair?”

“Say it,” Eleanor says under her breath.

Tahani, gazing into her eyes, trembling, replies, “I don’t know how.”

“Just say it,” Eleanor whispers, pleading.

Tahani looks as though she might start weeping, and her voice sounds just like it, too. Still, she gathers the courage to speak.

“Eleanor, I’m, I’m afraid I’m in love with you,” her words barely above a whisper.

“Why afraid?”

“It’s terribly unfair to you,” Tahani says, her head tilting to the side.

“Unfair to me how? Tahani, I’ve wanted to hear that for the longest time, ages. I was sure I never would,” Eleanor confesses in turn.

“Ages?” Tahani asks.

Eleanor nods.

“But Chidi? What about him?”

“Chidi loves Simone. He really does, I see the way they look at each other. I’ve heard him say it in passing. Yeah, at first it broke my heart. But he’s moving on, shouldn’t I? If he gets to go on with his life, so should I. And I want to go on with you,” Eleanor replies.

“But what if he’s your soulmate?” A tear trickles down Tahani’s cheek but she pays it no mind.

“Tahani, soulmates aren’t  _ real _ . They were made up to torture us, remember? No one is made for anyone but themselves. All that’s real is that… Sometimes you find someone who sees something beautiful in you. And you see something beautiful in them, and you work on it, and nourish it. Isn’t that love?” Eleanor asks, wiping the tear from Tahani’s cheek with her thumb.

For a while, they sit there, listening to the ocean, Eleanor’s cold hand still in Tahani’s warm palms, looking at each other, looking, as one looks at the most captivating piece at a museum, looking, as a believer looks to the skies.

“So you’re saying you’d like to give us a try?” Tahani breaks the silence at last.

“If you’d like to,” Eleanor replies, then, as though holding something fragile as a Fabergé egg, or indeed, a bomb, frees her hand from Tahani’s palms and brings it to caress her cheek, her lips inching closer to Tahani’s. Their movements are slow and uncertain at first. Tahani meets her half-way, and their eyes close as their lips lock.

And it’s not the most natural thing the world has ever seen, it doesn’t feel as though they’ve done this a thousand times before because they haven’t. It feels brand new and hopeful and ever so fresh. With each movement they grow more certain and giggle when they bump noses. The kiss is slow and steady, taking time to explore and get lost in the sensation. It feels like coming home, and the start of something new, both at once.

When they break apart, Eleanor’s hand lingers on Tahani’s cheek for a while. Tahani’s eyes are glistening with the hint of tears, happy tears this time.

“You okay?” Eleanor asks.

“Best I’ve ever been,” Tahani replies.


	9. when the sky is starless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing safe for work happens.

When Eleanor opens her eyes in the morning she’s greeted by a familiar-looking ornately decorated plaster ceiling. The bed is warm this time, though, and softer, and she has hair in her face. Long, dark hair that drapes over the fluffy white pillows and tickles Eleanor’s cheeks. She sneezes and startles Tahani awake. A tiny squeal escapes from her lips before she realizes where she is.

“Morning,” she murmurs, voice a bit groggy from sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Eleanor says, brushing the hair away from her face.

“I don’t mind,” Tahani replies and yawns, “it’s good to get an early start. Would you like breakfast?” she asks, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

Eleanor, still lying down, strokes Tahani’s arm with the back of her hand, “I wouldn’t say no to that,” when Tahani begins to get up, she continues, “but not yet.”

“Oh?” Tahani asks, leaning back on the bed, turning to Eleanor.

“It’s early. We don’t have to get up right away. We could stay here for a while,” she suggests.

“So we could,” Tahani admits, picking up on the suggestive tone of Eleanor’s voice.

“We could just get under the covers and,” Eleanor pulls the blanket over their heads, the morning sun bright enough to shine through it, giving her skin a soft, milky shine, “pretend the world out there doesn’t exist.”

“Just us, then?” Tahani asks.

“Just us,” Eleanor nods.

“In all of time and space?”

Eleanor nods again, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

“Well, whatever are we to do,” Tahani fakes bewilderment, holding back a giggle.

“Oh, I don’t know. Do you?” Eleanor replies with the same intonation, except she doesn’t bother to hold down her giggles.

“Well, I know where I’d like to start,” Tahani says with a come-hither look in her eyes.

“Then why don’t we start there?” Eleanor asks, and as if to answer, Tahani plants a gentle peck on her lips. Eleanor smirks and pulls her in for a deep, warm kiss, slipping the blanket off to catch a breath, her hands already exploring.

Tahani reciprocates likewise. She cups Eleanor’s face with her palm and brings her other hand behind her neck, slipping her fingers between blonde curls.

Eleanor breaks the kiss to move her lips to Tahani’s jaw, underneath it to her neck, planting soft pecks that grow hungrier over time, until she reaches the curve of her clavicle and latches onto the soft skin there tight enough to leave a mark. Tahani throws her head back when she does and leans to the side so she may lay on her back, and Eleanor may lay on top of her.

Eleanor breaks away to adjust her position, straddling Tahani with determination reflecting in her eyes, determination that makes Tahani’s heart flutter with excitement. She trails kisses from Tahani’s neck to her chest, and lingers there before moving on to her abdomen, leaving wet kisses all over it, past her navel, down to her thighs. She slides her hands to the sides of the brunette’s derriere, slightly underneath them, and moves on to kiss the insides of her thighs, moving from there until Tahani’s breaths turn into whimpers and moans and those, in turn, into high-pitched squeals, ever so cute, and deep, earthy groans.

Tahani’s hands grip the sheets, and she trashes, with a “Don’t stop,” or “Right there,” or “Jesus fucking Christ!” dropped in every now and then, and Eleanor giggles between her legs , her breath warm on sensitive skin.

It’s not long like that, until Tahani begins to tense up, muscle by muscle, her back arching and her fingers weaving a place for themselves in Eleanor’s hair for a gentle push to say what she can’t say for she can’t speak at this point.

Like a tidal wave, it washes over her, an unstoppable flood that rips through and shakes her to her core. Her heart thumps so hard in her chest, she fears it might just jump out. She gulps in air desperately, still panting when the tremors die down and she falls limp on the bed, relaxing, a blissful smile decorating her lips.

Eleanor plants one last kiss on Tahani’s stomach before collapsing on the bed at her side, chuckling when she sees Tahani still struggling to catch her breath, looking like a fish on dry land, but euphoric.

“Breakfast better be good,” Eleanor teases.

Though Tahani would love to assure her it will be, she’s yet to catch her breath enough to speak.

She ends up not telling her, but showing her, pouring her very heart into cooking once they’ve managed to get out of bed, which, as one might figure, took several attempts.

Tahani’s sieving flour for crepes when Eleanor walks up behind her and wraps her arms around her waist. Tahani chucks a fingertip of flour her way, as if to say this is a very delicate process, and she’d really like to get it perfect and mustn’t be interrupted. Eleanor fakes a pout, dips her finger into the bag of flour and puts a white dot on Tahani’s nose.

“You booped me,” Tahani says.

“I did,” Eleanor replies with a grin.

Tahani twirls around in her arms and plants a kiss on her forehead.

“Just a moment,” she says, and Eleanor reluctantly lets go of her waist.

Tahani finishes the batter and pours it into a pan, cup by cup, and uses a crepe tool to spread the batter evenly. She keeps them warm under a hot towel until she’s out of batter, and sprinkles just a twinge of lemon juice on them before dusting them with powdered sugar and cutting up strawberries to add, along with a few stray blueberries and leaves of mint.

She serves them with a steaming hot French press made of freshly ground coffee beans of the highest quality, and a soft smile, standing next to Eleanor to place the plate in front of her and leaning down to kiss her cheek after doing so, the smile never leaving her lips.

They talk avidly of just about everything imaginable over the breakfast table, laughing in between bites, and neither of them says it, because it doesn’t need to be said, but it feels like it’s been like this forever. It feels right, like coming home after a long time, finally opening the door after walking through heavy rain and being greeted by a loving familiarity that says this is where you belong, and all is as it’s meant to be.

After all, in a world where nothing makes sense, when you find someone that does, it’s euphoria.


	10. she keeps me warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which eight months have gone by.

The team is gathered in Mindy St. Claire’s living room. Jason is avidly describing his improvements with Chidi, in his own, simplified way, and everyone is listening in. Tahani sits on the couch, peeling a tangerine, and handing it to Eleanor slice by slice, who’s sitting next to her, without even thinking about it. She’s fully invested in Chidi’s developments and rehearsing in her head what she has to say about John’s, and her concerns about Brent’s lack of.

She’s wearing her usual floral maxi skirt, but this time combined with a pink sweater she might’ve categorized as a fashion don’t just a few years ago. She would never have chosen such a thing herself but ever since Eleanor started  _ borrowing _ her clothes, she’s started  _ borrowing _ Eleanor’s. It’s warm and smells like home. It makes her feel safe.

Eleanor puts her head on Tahani’s shoulder. No one pays it any mind. 

It’s been months now, eight to be precise, and, everyone in due time, has found out, one way or another. It’s been hard to miss, really. Anyone with eyes could tell you those two were together.

At first, of course, they were hesitant. But spending time in fake heaven, trying to save humanity, really puts things in perspective. The universe is just as vast and mysterious as we are small and as everything is uncertain. If anything, Tahani fears she’s waited too long, but instead of letting the fear consume her, she chooses to cherish every moment she gets, whether it’s waking up next to Eleanor or putting up with Michael’s sudden interest in human magic together.

The experiment is close to ending and neither she nor Eleanor has got a clue what’s waiting for them on the other side, but they know they’ll stick together, and if the Bad Place wants to rip them apart, they best prepare for war.

They cling not just to each other, but their whole ragtag team of a found family.

There’s relief in knowing the experiment is coming to an end after all this time, a whole year, but even more anxiety. There’s so much that could go wrong, so much that has gone wrong. With the uncertainty lingering in the air over everyone’s heads, things have been tense, but the tension can’t swallow them whole, overwhelming them, because so much of the space it’d like to occupy is filled with pure love.

What’s yet to come, will arrive in due time. Time, after all, keeps going, flowing through the world as a steady current that carries all of us forward.

The future may be uncertain but the present is not. And right now, Eleanor is holding Tahani’s hand and resting her head on her shoulder, surrounded by all the people she cares most about. The world may be cold and uncertain and terrifying, but their embrace is warm and full of love. And in this one spectacular moment, that’s more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got this far, I'd like to thank you for the simple fact of reading to the end, putting up with my cryptic song lyric chapter titles, and excessive similies. Consider leaving a comment, I really, genuinely do appreciate them like life itself, they motivate me to keep writing and overall, I'm not exaggerating when I say they can make my day, especially during these dark winter months when happiness is scarce to find.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this piece, I suppose what happens next is up for interpretation. Again, thank you so much for reading, have a lovely day.


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